Tomato Garden
by Hipster Blood Ritual
Summary: Spamano oneshot fluff! Fem!Romano. Other countries might be persent too, plans include France and UK. Rated for Romano's mouth. All fluff, some  minor  angst planned as well. Please enjoy!
1. Spain's new girlfriend

**A/N  
>Spain is 20<br>Romano is 15  
>Belgium is 18<br>Sorry for Romano's OOCness  
>Enjoy!<br>**  
>"Hey, Romano?" Spain's voice echoed through the garden.<p>

"Yeah?" Romano looked up from where she was transplanting tomatoes. "What do you want now?"

Spain peeked around the plants. She looked so cute, with her hands all dirty and the smell of tomatoes wafting through the warm summer air.

He had been trying to ignore these feelings of affection toward her, because they were pretty much siblings.

And he knew they weren't actually related- it was more like they were best friends. And best friends didn't do things like kiss... and stuff...

Spain blushed. He really wished these strange feelings would go away. Romano trusted him as a best friend. He needed to be a friend to her. Not anything else.

Romano waited patiently for Spain to say something. He'd been acting really weird toward her lately. He'd ask for her, then stop, and...

Yup, there was the blush.

Romano's eyes narrowed. It was seriously annoying. She thought they were best friends. Best friends told eachother everything. But every time she asked him, he'd shake his head and change the subject.

Finally Spain spoke again. "Romano?"

"What is it, dammit, just come out and say it."

"Hey- uh- Belgium's coming over soon."

Romano frowned. What?  
>"Why is that good for nothing bitch coming over? Her own house not good enough?"<p>

"Um... I dunno...?"

In truth, Spain had actually invited her over. He was hoping Belgium might want to hang out with him more- because she was cute, and Spain needed to get his mind off all those seriously weird thoughts about Romano.

Romano knew exactly why Belgium was coming over. She could almost read Spain's mind. She almost hated him for it.

"Um-" Spain awkwardly stepped away. "I'm... gonna go make some snacks..." He needed to get away from Romano. His thoughts were almost projecting themselves into the air. And that really wouldn't do.

He backed away, not quick enough to be rude, but fast enough.

Romano shook her head. She began digging away at the dirt again, perhaps a little harder then was strictly necessary.  
>Why couldn't Spain see? She really liked him. Why was he inviting Belgium over when he had her? She felt like yelling at him. He was such a fucking blockhead!<p>

"Romano!" Spain called a little while later. "Belgium's here!"

"Don't know why you need me..." Romano muttered as she dusted herself off. "Stupid, fucking idiots..." At least she'd planted all the tomatoes.

Belgium sat at the kitchen island, in Romano's usual seat. Her short blonde hair looked nice with the shiny red ribbon.

Romano scowled as she walked in. Why did Spain like Belgium so much?

Spain frowned. Was Romano mad?

"Hi Lovina!" Belgium said brightly, before the silence got too long.

"Hello Bella." Romano smiled politely. She turned to Spain. "I don't feel well- so I'm going to skip dinner."

Spain frowned. She didn't look sick. Did he do something wrong by inviting Belgium over?

"Go ahead" Spain answered. "Do you want some water or something?"

"No, just leave me alone." Romano glared at the two of them. "Have fun with the bitch" she muttered under her breath.

She ran upstairs.

When she was safely in her room with the door locked, she flopped on her bed. What was going on? Best friends were supposed to be happy when something like this happened. Why was she feeling jealous like this? Belgium wasn't even that bad.

Maybe... Just maybe...

Did Romano want Spain to be more then a friend?

Of course not.

Did she?

She allowed her mind to explore this possible option. She'd never really thought about it before. Did she... Did she LOVE Spain?

Maybe she did. She certainly loved him as a friend. But this was totally different.

She thought about Prussia and Hungary. How they spent all their time together, fighting and laughing and having fun. No doubt about it, they were in love. Practically married. She smirked. Hungary and Prussia, married.

But was that what being a couple meant? Having fun, laughing together, sometimes getting mad?

Her thoughts turned to her and Spain. The way they worked together in the gardens, the way Spain smiled at her, the way they snuggled together on the sofa when they were watching Doctor Who.

But best friends did that, right?

But were the feelings Romano had toward Spain the way best friends felt? The way her heart grew warm when he held her hand, or when they sat together on the sofa. The way she smiled when he smiled.

Was it love? Not best-friend love, but real love?

But the real question was: did he feel the same way?

Apparently not- as he was going out with that bitch Belgium now.

What was she going to do?

-

A few hours later, there was a quiet knock on her door.

"Yeah?" Romano asked

"Can I come in?" Spain asked.

"I suppose." Romano sat up.

So he did, and sat on the edge of her bed.

"I have something to ask you" he said quietly.

Romano sighed. "What is it?"

"We're best friends, right?"

"Uh... Yeah. Obviously."

He smiled- but there was more, Romano could tell.

"I was thinking about this a lot tonight." Spain began. "After Belgium left I kept thinking about you."

She stared. What?

"Are we just friends?" Spain asked her.

It took a bit before she realized he was waiting for an answer.

"I..." She started again. "I don't know. We say we're best friends, but we don't exactly act like it, do we? I guess we act like a couple."

Spain smiled. "That's what I was wondering."

Romano nodded. "We do almost everything together. We laugh, we hold hands, we hug all the time. We watch movies and snuggle."

"So we are a couple, aren't we?"

Romano blushed. "Are we?"

"After Belgium left I kept thinking about... Us..."

"Us?"

"Yeah. Like, what are we going to do?" Spain took a breath. It was time for his confession. "I really like you Romano. I can't see anyone in my future but you. I don't know how you feel, but I want you and me to be something more then just best friends. I love you, Romano."

Romano was astounded. Suddenly it all made sense. The random way Spain would just stare at her, those annoying blushes. The way he'd stare into space sometimes, right after they'd finish talking.

He loved her. Wasn't this what she wanted?

It was.

Romano's cheeks grew red. "I-" She tried to put her thoughts in order. "That is- that's how I feel too."

Spain's eyes grew wide. "Seriously? Really?"

Romano could have laughed at the face he was making. She almost did, but then realized it probably wouldn't have been the best moment for meanness. So she smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

Spain reached out and took her hand. "In that case- I have another confession to make."

Romano's breath hitched. Was it what she thought? She looked into Spain's green eyes.

Spain leaned closer. "I've been thinking about doing this for a long time..."He closed the distance and placed a small kiss on her lips.

That was all? Romano felt a little disappointed.

Spain frowned. "Weird."

Romano scowled. "What now?"

"That was even better then I thought."

Romano smiled. She leaned forward for more. This time the kiss wasn't so small.

When they finally stopped for air, Spain dragged her into his lap for a hug. "I think this works perfectally, don't you?"

In answer, Romano just pressed her lips to his.


	2. Kidnapped by a pedo

**A/N  
>Romano is 14<br>Spain is 21  
>France is 24...ish... Actually, does it matter?<br>Enjoy!**

It was a perfect day. The sun shone warm and bright in the cloudless blue sky. The tomato plants grew tall and strong, supporting their bountiful red harvest.

Romano could almost smell autumn in the air, on the breeze. Mostly she could smell tomatoes. The earthy scent filled the garden as she and Spain picked the ripe tomatoes into large baskets.

She felt the warm sun on her face and closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth.

She opened one eye. Spain was staring at her, a bemused expression on his face.

"What do you want?" she asked defensively.

Spain averted his eyes. "Sorry. Um... I'm going over to the yellow tomatoes, okay?"

She frowned. He was leaving all the work to her again. "I don't exactly care."

Spain frowned, cleared his throat, and walked quickly down the garden path. Right then.

Romano shook her head. He was acting so dumb.

She picked a particularly huge tomato and tried to get his behavior out of her mind. She held the tomato up to her face, smelling the green, earthy scent. It smelled like Spain... (except she was annoyed at him, so she wasn't going to think nice thoughts about him)

Suddenly, a new scent permeated her nostrils. It was decidedly NOT tomato. It was sweeter, like flowers. Like roses...

She opened her eyes. From where she was crouched, she could see a man's black shoes and blue pants. She followed the legs up, and they belonged to a rather (NOT) dashing young, blonde, man.

France.

Why was he here? Spain hadn't exactly been on good terms with him lately, due to several cooments aimed at Romano.

He had no reason to be here. She was about to get up and call for Spain, when France clapped a hand over her mouth.

Okay, she thought, as she struggled to get out of France's arms, maybe he did have a reason to be here.

"Listen, little tomato. You can come easily with me, and I won't hurt you. You can make this hard, and I won't be as nice."

Romano cringed at his use of Spain's nickname for her. It sounded totally gross and wrong in his smooth, silky voice. "No." she whispered past his hand.

France smiled and scooped her up, bridal style, his hand still covering her mouth. "Spain will thank you for this too."

Was France going to hurt Spain? "Don't you dare hurt him!" she growled.

France pinched her arm. "Shut up!"

She couldn't move, she couldn't scream for help. She was being carried away from home.

France quickly covered the ground to his expansive mansion. As soon as they were in the door, Romano struggled out his grasp.

"Sick bastard!" She cried. "Take me back!"

"Nice vocabulary." France remarked. "Surely you could put it to better use."

She shuddered as he voiced his perverted thoughts. He grasped her arm and dragged her down a corridor.

"Your room." France opened the door and pushed her into it. "I'll see you in a bit." he slammed the door shut.

Right. She was stuck in here. No windows, the door was locked from the outside. No escape.

France would be in there soon.

Her only hope was that Spain would come and save her...

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Spain looked carefully over the yellow tomatoes. Most of them were actually ripe. He carefully picked a few to sample. They were sweet and earthy- perfect.

Now he needed a basket to pick them into. He looked around. He thought he had grabbed one from Romano. Huh.

Maybe he'd left it over by the orange tomatoes. He'd looked at those ones first.

He walked back over there, checking around for the basket. Nowhere.

Maybe he really hadn't grabbed one. His mind had been too preoccupied with thoughts about tomatoes and Romano and how much he liked them. And how much he wanted to taste both of th-

He wasn't actually going to finish thinking that thought, thank you very much.

He walked back to the red tomatoes. There were all the baskets (he hadn't actually grabbed one) but...

Where was Romano?

Maybe she'd just popped over to the toilet. That was probably it. He shook his head at himself. Why was he getting so paranoid?

He leaned over to grab a basket. A particular scent caught his nose. He sniffed. Flowers?

Yeah. Roses.

France.

Romano was missing.

Spain dropped the basket. He knew exactly what had happened. France had kidnapped his little tomato. And who knows what he was doing to her?

Where would France have taken her? Shit. He hadn't paid attention to her, and now he was paying the price. Only he wasn't, she was.

Spain was off and running. Where would France take her? His house? The gardens of Venus?

The gardens, he decided. France had that strange obsession with romance and victims.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Meanwhile, Romano had pretty much given up on thoughts of rescue. France had come into her room, smelling strongly of wine.

"Come here my little tomato" he was whispering. "Right now."

"Like hell I will." Romano retorted.

France frowned. "But we promised we wouldn't do that, right?"

He walked slowly toward where Romano was sitting on the bed. She cringed away.

France sat down beside her. His fingers traced her face. He leaned closer, and their lips touched.

Romano was utterly repulsed. His mouth tasted of roses and wine. Disgusting. She tried to push away, but France kept her arms in a tight grip.

She felt his tongue tracing her tightly closed mouth. It was horrific.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Okay. Spain tried in vain to stop the feelings of panic. Not in the gardens.

Now for France's house. He ran. He hoped he wasn't too late.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Spain wasn't coming. Romano knew. It was almost too late. France had released her arms, only to drag her onto his lap. His hands were now wandering all over her body.

There was nothing she could do except block it all out. And cry.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Spain pushed through France's front doors. He didn't know how he was going to find her. He headed down the nearest corridor, listening.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tears fell down Romano's cheeks.

When France pulled away to loosen his tie, he pinched her- hard- for crying.

She cried out a little.

It was all Spain needed. He threw the door of the cell open.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Spain's voice was dangerously low. Dark Spain.

France's hands stayed where they were, on Romano's chest. "I was simply helping her out. She was lonely. She practically begged me to take her."

Romano's eyes widened at how furious Spain was. His clenched fists were white.

France's hands tightened.

Romano's eyes met Spain's.

"Get your filthy fucking hands off her." Spain said, softly.

France didn't move, his eyes daring Spain to take this further.  
>"Who else can help her?" France asked, as his arms snaked around her, pulling her tighter against him.<p>

"I said GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!" Spain strode across the room.

France took his arms off Romano. Spain took her hand and put her behind him. But not before he noticed the bruises.

"If you ever try anything like this again, I swear, I really will kill you." Spain's voice was normal now, conversational.

"I swear on Grandfather Rome, all I was doing was helping-"

Suddenly France was on the mattress, sporting a spectacularly broken nose.

Spain shook his hand off. "And if you EVER hurt her again, you're going to have to deal with a hell of a lot worse than that. She's MY responsibility, you hear? MINE!"

He took a good long look at Romano then, stray tears falling down her face, her arms trying to cover up the traces of physical abuse. He almost felt like crying himself. It was all his fault.

He scooped her up gently, leaving France bleeding on the bed. "Come on, my little tomato."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Safely back home, Romano couldn't stop thinking about her stolen innocence.

Her entire childhood, she'd been denied everything. Praise, hope and loving family.

Spain had opened his house and his heart to her. He'd given her everything she'd been denied.

All she'd really wanted was for her first kiss to belong to Spain.

That fucking bastard France had denied this one simple wish.

Now she felt like everything was being denied again.

After they'd made it home, and Spain had made sure she was really okay, with no lasting damage (of the physical kind, at least) he'd gone into his bedroom.

He still hadn't come out.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Spain was almost catatonic with guilt. It was all his fault. All his fault. All his fault. The words made a kind of rythym in his head. He'd spent almost 24 hours in here.

Weeelll, not counting the many times he'd gone out to check on Romano while she slept. Just to watch her breathe.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

There was nothing for it. She was going to have to go find him. Who knows what the stupid bastard might have done to himself. He probably got electrocuted by a stray static spark or something.

She thought over the options for at least an hour befor steeling her nerves and knocking on the door to Spain's bedroom.

"Come in." came the immediate answer.

Good. He hadn't been strangled by his blankets then. She took a breath and pushed the door open slowly.

Spain sat at his desk, his back facing the door. His head was in his hands; the ultimate display of defeat, grief and guilt.

"Listen, Spain, I-" She realized then that she didn't have anything to say.

Anything that wasn't totally embarrassing or inappropriate, that is.

Spain pushed himself away from his desk, and in one quick motion was holding Romano in his arms.

"I'm sorry Romano." He whispered. "This was all my fault."

Romano pushed him away. "Don't you dare blame this on yourself."

"But I wasn't paying attention. I could have saved you."

Romano reached up, hesitantly, and pushed his hair away from his eyes. "You did save me." she quietly said.

"Not in time though."

"Yes, in time! Nothing really bad happened- it could have been much worse-" her lip trembled.

It was torture. Spain being all depressed over this, and maybe he didn't even LIKE her in the same way she did, and now her innocence couldn't be his, it pretty much belonged to France...

Spain misinterpreted the lip tremble (but really- how could he NOT?) "And I'm so sorry he hurt you. I won't ever let it happen again."

She stared up at him, both their eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

God, he really loved her. And it was all his fault. How could she return his love when he'd almost abandoned her to that fucking creep?

She wanted him to make it better. All it would take was just one little kiss. Not even a big one. Just a little smooch on the lips. And a hug. A real, happy hug (although she kind of liked the possessiveness with which he was holding her now...)

Oh, what the hell, he thought. She'll find out sometime.

He closed the small distance between their faces and gave her the kiss she'd been waiting for.

Only a really, really big passionate one.

And that was what made everything right.


	3. Out to eat

**A/N  
>Spain is 26<br>Romano is 3  
>This isn't exactly a Spamano, more like a familyish kinda thing- but still cute fluff.<br>Enjoy! :)  
>-Converse on the Tardis<strong>

Romano toddled through the tomato garden, laughing maniacally. Spain ran after her, trying to pick her up.

"Come on Romano!" He pleaded. "We're gonna be late! Don't you wanna come to a restaurant with me?"

She went around a corner, almost falling. "No!"

Spain rounded the corner, grasping for her red jumper. "Careful!" His hand missed, and she ran faster. "Romano!"

She tried for another corner, but tripped over her own short legs. She sprawled onto the cobblestoned pathway.

The next second, Spain was picking her gently up, as she began crying loudly. Her hands and knees had turned the color of tomatoes.

He cradled her gently as he carried her to the house.

oOo

After being cleaned up and changed, Romano and Spain were finally ready to go.

Spain wiped a stray tear from Romano's cheek. "Okay now?"

She nodded, and struggled out of his arms. He kept a firm grip on her hand, though. She tried getting away, but he wouldn't let go.

She pouted. She didn't even know where they were supposed to be going. It was probably a stupid place where Spain would meet other, weird countries, like France, who looked at her creepily, or Britain, whose eyebrows were, like, living, with minds of their own. On his face.

Actually, she quite enjoyed watching those eyebrows.

"Here we are!" Spain lifted her off the ground. "This is where we're eating dinner!"

It was like a big brick house with big glass doors and an abnormally large chimney. It was interesting. Romano stared up at the chimney. She couldn't be sure, but it looked like a green stem.

She didn't get to look long, as Spain walked quickly through the doors. There was a big plastic chef standing in front of the door.

Romano bristled. He looked like her brother, Feliciano, when he'd eaten too much pasta. Big, fat, and red cheeked.

"Hey Spain, over here!"

Romano turned toward the sound of the voice. It was Britain, sitting at a table with Austria and Hungary.

Now she could watch those eyebrows...

Her attention was quickly taken by the giant pizza oven, which was shaped like a giant tomato. It was the most amazing thing ever.

"You're finally here!" Hungary moaned. "What took so long?"

"Romano had a little accident." Spain explained as he buckled her into a booster seat. "You didn't have to wait."

"No, it's okay." Hungary turned toward Romano and assumed the voice everyone uses with cute things. "Did you have an accident?"

Romano glared at her. In reply, she held up her heavily bandaged hands.

"Oh no!" Hungary cried. "Romano!" She turned to Austria, who was contemplating the menu. "See what happened to Romano?"

Austria looked up, eyebrows raised. "That's too bad."  
>He began looking at the menu again.<p>

Romano glared at him. She was the center of the universe! Why was Austria so interested in the menu?

Spain saw the glare and quickly gave Romano some crayons and paper. "Here- draw a picture. And do you want pizza, pasta, or bruschetta?"

"Bruschetta." Romano carefully took the crayons from Spain.

Hungary stared at Romano. "She can talk?"

Spain raised his eyebrows. "Yeah..."

"What does she talk about?"

Spain's mouth curved up. "Ask her yourself."

Hungary turned to Romano. "Can you talk to me? What's your favorite animal?"

"Shut the fuck up." Romano said clearly. "I'm drawing."

Even Austria had to try to cover up a smile.

Spain kept chuckling as he wiped his eyes. "Quite the vocabulary she has."

"Where did she hear those things from?" Hungary was slightly amazed.

"I dunno." Spain shrugged. "It's like she already knew them before she learned to talk."

Hungary tried again. "What are you drawing?"

"None of your business."

"Okay, Romano." Spain chided. "Please be somewhat pleasant."

"Is the food gonna get here soon?" Romano asked politely.

"I bet it'll come in... Thirty seconds." Spain smiled and started counting.

Sure enough, when he got to thirty, the waiter was setting down steaming plates of Italian food in front of everyone.

Romano abandoned her drawing and set into her bruchetta.

"How did you know?" she asked Spain.

Hungary sent him a knowing glance.

"I know everything, remember?" Spain told her with a grin.

"No, you don't. We all know you're dumb." Romano replied.

"Ouch." Hungary laughed. "Burn!"

"Fine then, little genius, it was pure, dumb luck."

Romano nodded. She'd of course already known that. But she wouldn't stand for Spain lying to her.

"I could do so much better than this food." Britain complained after a while of eating in silence.

"What," Hungary asked him, "You cooking?"

"Yeah!" Britain nodded emphatically. "I could make Italian scones! With tomatoes and cheese!"

Romano looked up from her meal. "If you try that, I'll kill you."

"No sense ruining something good, Britain." Austria sided with Romano.

Spain nodded his agreement, his mouth full of pizza.

"You guys are so mean." Britain pouted into his spaghetti alfredo.

"You know it's the truth." Romano told him, a bit condescendingly. 

oOo

After saying goodbyes, and Romano tolerating Hungary's hug, Spain led her home through the dark.

"Good job today, Romano." he smiled down at her. "I'm glad you didn't make too big of a fuss."

Romano frowned. All Spain's friends had something wrong with them. Hungary was too affectionate, Austria was too cold, Britain was too strange-looking.

She was glad she lived with the only perfect one.


End file.
